


A What Kind Of Tablet?!

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Wincest Drabbles [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Although..., Anally Disintegrating Tablets, Caretaker Sam Winchester, Comedy, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Protective Sam Winchester, Sick Dean Winchester, Then again, Wincest - Freeform, i died writing this, its, or whatever, so i guess its cool, thats not how you should take care of people, usually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:24:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Dean is sick. Sam takes care of him. There's a tablet involved, and it doesn't go down Dean's throat. That's all. Really.





	A What Kind Of Tablet?!

**Author's Note:**

> So, because of the lack of time, it took me three days over the course of a week or two to get this done, but I swear, it was the best writing session of my life, because thanks to KaenNoMai, I think I died three times over.

  Winchesters did not get sick. Period. 

  A lifetime of challenging their immune system would do that. Dean couldn’t even remember the last time he’d ever gotten a cold or the flu or whatever other virus was floating around and attacking people whose only experience with dirt was from the beach’s sand.

  That being said, witches and hex bags, on the other hand? That was a whole different story.

  They’d ganked the witch the previous day, found and burnt the hex bag last night. But when he’d woken up, Dean still wasn’t feeling any better.

  If anything, he felt progressively worse.

  “Your throat looks swollen.” Sam pulled the tiny flashlight out, enabling Dean to reply. Which, he totally would. If he could fucking speak. 

  He settled for a glare, crossing his arms for good measure, trusting his brother to interpret it as the ‘ _ No shit, Sherlock,’  _ that it was.

  Sam shot him a bitch face in return, needing no other explanation. He put away the flashlight, and the short amount of time was enough to make Sam’s face slip into something more apologetic. 

  “I don’t know, man. It looks like you’re just gonna have to wait this one out.”

  Dean’s glare intensified. 

  “Don’t look at me like that! Look - I’ll get you some meds and soup and whatever other shit we need. Get some proper rest and you should be good in no time, and we can get back on the road, alright?” Sam said, trying to appease Dean. For his part, he silently huffed, ignoring how much that small action caused his throat to scream with pain. Dean looked away, gritting his teeth.

  “Stop being such a baby,” Sam muttered, getting up. Nonetheless, he rubbed Dean’s shoulder as he passed by him to get his wallet. “I’ll be back in a bit. Try to drink this?” He held out a water bottle in Dean’s face. When it became clear that he wasn’t gonna relent, Dean begrudgingly took it from him, uncrossing his arms. Not having to look at his brother to see Sam’s pleased face, Dean rolled his eyes, tossing the water bottle back and forth between hands. He watched as Sam grabbed his gun, tucking it into his waistband and adjusting his jacket before pulling open the door. The brothers nodded at each other. Sam pulled the door shut behind him.

  Sighing, Dean tossed the water bottle to his bed. It bounced at the foot of his mattress before settling. Rubbing his throat, Dean eyed the TV, wondering if he should turn it on and let the mindless droning distract him till Sam got back. But the remote was too far away, and his limbs felt like they were being weighed down. Internally groaning, Dean kicked off his boots, cuddling up under his covers. It took a while for sleep to come, but when it did, Dean was out like a light.

oOo

  He woke up to Sam gently nudging his arm. Staring balefully up at his brother, Dean pushed himself up. He almost slumped right back into bed if it weren’t for Sam quickly grabbing onto him. Internally grumbling, he let him help anyway. Once he was seated, laying as comfortably as he could in his condition against the pillows Sam propped up for him, he raised a questioning eyebrow, looking distrustfully at the plastic bags in Sam’s hand. Following Dean’s line of sight, Sam abruptly smirked.

  Dean definitely did not like the look of that.

  “Well, I’ve got you some soup we’re going to have to try getting in you - let me  _ finish!”  _ Sam exclaimed when he caught sight of Dean fervently shaking his head. He sat by Dean’s knees. “I know you don’t wanna swallow anything right now, but I’ve got you a tablet for that. Your throat should ease up enough for you to get your nutrients and other medicine in you orally.”

  Dean frowned. His eyebrows raised in momentary comprehension, before he frowned again, settling on absolutely befuddled.  _ What? _

  Thankfully, Sam was well versed in all languages that were Dean.

  After some hassling with the bag, he took out a cardboard box, the telltale sounds of tablets shifting within in their packaging, and held it out to Dean.

  A moment passed, with Dean glaring at his brother, before reluctantly pushing his arm out his blanket and taking the box. Flipping it one handedly, he glanced down at it, skimming disinterestedly until the words caught his eye.

_ Anally disintegrating tablets.  _

  No. Fucking. Way.

  Even Sam’s trained instincts couldn’t stop him from getting smacked right in the face with the box.

  “Ow! Man! What the hell?” But the bitch was laughing, and the sound that would normally make Dean’s chest feel light, as if he wasn’t burdened with the blood of innocents that he couldn’t save staining his hands was momentarily washed away, now was just grating. “Look! You can’t swallow, and there’s no use spitting, so-”

  Forgetting that he was too sick to even sit, Dean shot up, and punched Sam right in the shoulder, sending his brother careening to the floor.

  Sam disappeared over the edge, only his long legs visible as the bent at the knees as Sam settled on his back on the floor, an elbow coming into view to most likely position its respectful arm into holding onto the shoulder Dean punched. For a moment, everything was silent, except for Dean’s pained and furious breathing. But after a few seconds, when his breathing had settled, he had realized Sam’s was still off. 

  Tilting to the side, careful to make sure he didn’t fall off and join his brother on the floor, Dean held on to the nightstand as he peered at his brother.

  Who was biting his lips in an attempt to avoid grinning.

  It wasn’t working well. When Sam saw Dean looking at him, he snorted, before finally wiping that stupid little smug grin off his face. “Alright, I’m sorry.” He at least managed to make that sound genuine as he got back to his feet. “But you really do need to take one of this. It’s supposed to help you, and you really do need to eat something soon, Dean.” 

  Dean stared.

  “I’m sorry, but you have to do it!” Sam raised his hands placatingly, but Dean felt a surge of triumph when Sam didn’t meet his eyes. It was gone as soon as it came with Sam’s next words. “So either you’re gonna do it yourself, or I’m gonna have to help you.”

  Oh, hell  _ no. _

  Just in case that wasn’t clear on his face, Dean flipped the bird for added measure. Sam rolled his eyes. When he started to come closer to Dean, that’s when he felt the panic rising in his gut. He desperately tried to lean away from Sam. He was so not putting a  _ tablet in his ass! _

oOo

  Dean was trying to put a tablet in his ass.

  Letting his head slump forward, he shifted awkwardly. He had his legs spread apart, and he already stretched himself with a couple of fingers, figuring it would be enough. Lubed fingers going up his hole? Sure, fine. Mandatory, and could be fun, if done right. Sex toys? Oh, hell yes.

  A tablet?

  Dean swallowed, and then grimaced. A high pitched whine built up in his throat, but the pain from that itself had tears leaking from the corner of Dean’s eyes. 

  Seriously, what had his life come to? 

  He’d have figured, growing up in the hunting life, he’d have done some embarrassing, and frankly, weird shit. But this? It took the cake, platter, and entire bakery.

  His fingers pressed against his hole. Closing his eyes, Dean pushed a little further. The tablet grazed his rim… 

  The tablet dropped to the bathroom floor.

  Dean silently swore.

oOo

  It took him a few minutes to convince himself. Another few to build up the confidence. An extra one to take the few short steps from where he’d been standing in the middle of the bathroom to the door. Thumping his head against it a few times, he finally unlocked it.

  “Dean? You done?” His damn brother was quick to rise to attention, eagerly looking at his face.

  Dean glared, his fingers white against the towel around his hip. 

  Sam swallowed, wisely looking appropriately somber. “Oh.”

oOo

  “You-you should… get on the… bed for the-this.” Sam said, trying to maintain a straight face whilst his brother silently glowered at him. He pursed his lips, trying to control an onslaught of words from coming out before he could ruin everything and have his brother shove the tablet up his own ass instead. Dean eventually gave in, his fingers tightening and loosening its grip on his towel as he climbed onto his bed, walking on his knees to the center of the bed. Sam heard Dean let out a deep exhale before he slowly leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms. 

  Sam’s breath caught.

  At his position, Dean could let go of the towel without worrying about it falling, which meant that it was still snug around his hips, and covering the place Sam needed access to. Taking a deep breath of his own, Sam dropped the box beside Dean’s calf, Sam climbed onto the bed behind him, outstretched hands pausing before they connected with Dean’s hips.

  Dean let out a shuddered exhale.

  Swallowing up a sudden excess of saliva, Sam closed his eyes at the feel of Dean’s hot skin under his palms, refraining himself from massaging the freckled skin there. No doubt that would have Dean jumping away faster than he could get started on saying ‘anally disintegrating tablets.’ 

  He slipped his fingers under Dean’s towel, and tugged it off, the fabric caressing Dean’s cheeks as it fell to the bed. 

  Dean gasped, hips rocking forward, before he froze again. Goosebumps erupted over his skin. With shaking hands, Sam slipped his finger down Dean’s crack, fingers getting slick with the lube from there. Slowly, he pushed in, his finger slipping in easily with a squelch. Sam could hear Dean’s breath hitching, a small whine escaping him before he caught himself. His lips quirking, Sam inserted another finger. It was a tighter fit, but he knew from experience that it meant Dean had at least scissored himself at this point. But Sam needed more space for himself, so with that, he started to stretch his fingers. This time, when Dean let out a moan, he didn’t hold himself back, his back arching as Sam scissored him. His own breathing growing labored, Sam widened his fingers one last time, a fingertip incidentally grazing Dean’s prostate, evoking a yelp from his brother, before he pulled his finger out, wiping it on the discarded towel below them. With much more steady fingers, Sam tore open a new tablet, before pausing, regarding the tablet with a skeptical stare. 

  The thing couldn’t have been bigger than his pupil, and this is what Dean had trouble with?

  He wasn’t gonna push his luck though, especially with something like  _ this.  _

  “C’mon dude, what’s the holdup?” Dean’s voice was hoarse as he twisted his head around to look at Sam, prompting him into action.

  “Uh, yeah, no just-” he braced a palm on Dean’s hip, instantly causing Dean to look back forward and drop his head on his arms. His breathing quickened as if he knew what was coming, so not wanting to waste another second and possibly test Dean’s mood - read; tablet up Sam’s ass instead - Sam held the tablet between his index and thumb, and pressed it against Dean’s hole. 

  He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, which prevented him from hearing how Dean stopped breathing. With slow but firm movements, Sam guided the tablet into Dean’s hole, and pushed.

  It disappeared with a silent  _ shlick. _

  Sam’s eyebrows rocketed. “Uh…”

  “What?” Dean’s voice was alarmed, and if it weren’t for their situation, Sam had a feeling he’d be rearing up and twisting around, physically shaking Sam and demanding for an answer. As it was, his muscles clenched, his hole closing, and it must have sent the tablet deeper inside, because Dean gasped, letting out a small ‘ _ oh.’ _

  “Uh… so…” Sam hummed, his hands still on Dean’s hips - and actually, when did that happen again? - and looked down, where his highly erect cock was inches away from Dean’s slick hole.

oOo

  Dean could feel the tablet in his ass, muscles clenching around it. The thing was so small, he didn’t know when Sam first inserted it, right up till his muscles tightened - and oh, there it was. His face was flaming with embarrassment, and he tried to crouch inwards and away from Sam. Somehow, his body decided to do the exact opposite, because he was moving  _ backwards,  _ but then froze when his skin connected with Sam’s.

  More importantly, a very important, very aroused, part of Sam’s.

  “Dude, are you--”

  “Dean--” 

  They both stopped, and that’s when Dean became aware of how heavy their breathing was, the motel room echoing with the noise. 

  It was Sam who broke first. “Dean… can I…”

  Dean rocked forward, trying to pull away from Sam’s hold on his hips, but for a guy who couldn’t even keep a shoe on his foot, he had a damn strong grip on Dean. “Sam! I have. A  _ tablet.  _ In my ass! And you want to fuck me?”

  “. . . I could lick you?”

  “. . . Screw you.”

  He heard Sam let out a huff of laughter, before Sam bent down and started licking anyway.

  Dean gasped, his eyes closing, and held onto the flimsy motel bed sheets for dear life.

  “You taste like mint.” Sam’s voice was muffled. Slamming his head down, Dean groaned.

  “Fuck. Y-”


End file.
